Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

I Realized That My Husband Has Been Lying to Me

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Everything is supposed to be great and grand in sunny Florida, right? I mean, that’s what I’ve always thought. I have wonderful memories from childhood of vacationing at the beach with my family. So when the opportunity came up last Spring to travel as a nurse to Florida to live and work, I jumped at the chance. I still remember my husband’s face when I mentioned working in Central Florida.

“It wouldn’t be my first choice,” he had said with a grimace.

And I knew why. My husband was a mountain man! I’m not just saying that because of the scruffy beard and big, brown boots either. I mean that he loves the climate. His favorite season is fall, he’s a huge fan of snow, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him complain about the cold. But complaining about the heat? Well, that’s a different story.

Yep, my husband isn’t a huge fan of hot weather, hence his reaction last year to my beach dreams.

“Let’s just put in for all of these,” he suggested, concerning the list of travel nurse, job locations we saw as options, “and we’ll go with whoever offers you a job first.”

I was secretly hoping for the Florida job.

I imagine my husband was not.

Well, you guessed it. My first interview last year came from a hospital in Central Florida, outside of Orlando, and off we went as a family to new and warmer scenery.

It really wasn’t that bad, not like I had imagined. I mean, other than the occasional huffyness over marching through Disney World in July, my husband didn’t complain much about the sweltering heat. In fact, we didn’t argue or disagree about the temperature much at all!

You’ve all heard the famous argument. One spouse is cold-natured, the other is hot-natured, and the thermostat is the wedge between them. Adjusting the thermostat is fighting words for many temperature-opposite couples, and my husband and I were as different as night and day. He could sunbathe in the nude on a blanket of snow, and I could submerge myself in a pool of hot lava without missing a beat. With the expanse of climate disagreement between us, I was pleasantly surprised at how my husband had changed. I had always heard that couples became more alike the longer they lived together, and as we made our way through our first Summer in Orlando last year, I decided that was true of us. He had adjusted to my climate, and I was always comfortable in our home. We had a great AC unit, but unlike how it was growing up as a kid, I didn’t feel like I was constantly freezing. I had worried my husband might turn me into an ice cube with the AC in such a warmer area, but he had not. We had kept an amicable and lovely setting on the thermostat the entire assignment.

Well, when I had the opportunity to return to my Orlando hospital, I jumped at the chance. Hot days and sunshine galore! Wee!! I had seen enough of winter, even in the calmer climate of South Carolina, and was eager to return to the heat. Of course, my acclimated husband smiled agreeably for our return, and off again we went to sunny Florida.

It’s started to heat up lately, here in Central Florida, and I’m loving every bit of it. I don’t have to be cold anymore! So imagine my surprise when I got home from work last night and walked into an igloo. Immediately my arms broke out into goosebumps, and icicles started to form from my cold, red nose.

“Why y’all got it like an icebox in here?!” I asked my husband, in between chattering breathes of white smoke (I might be exaggerating, mildly).

And that’s when he surprised me.

“Sorry, babe,” he commented as he stirred the supper he had made. “Time caught up with me today. I didn’t realize it was so late. I always have the thermostat turned down. I turn it back up about an hour before you get home.”

He had not acclimated. He didn’t handle the heat any better than he had before. He still hated it. He still loved to sit around inside Antarctica in short sleeves. He still thought 68 was the perfect thermostat setting. Compared to my desired 74-78. He had not changed like I thought.

And you know what else hadn’t changed? His love for me. That selfless love that was compromising on the little things. It was the kind of love that made Mountain men head off to the beach instead. It made an Eskimo go lay out by the pool with his wife, albeit in the shade, for him. He had not suddenly started to love the hot sun like me or even accept an indoor lukewarm temperature like me, but he had decided to give that extra mile that he wasn’t required to give. He gave it for me. He let go of his ultimate desires in favor of mine because he cared about what I enjoyed. The craziest part, to me, was that he had not felt it necessary to brag about his concessions. I mean, he hadn’t exactly lied about loving the warmer temps, but he also hadn’t seen necessary to parade his sacrifice.

He hadn’t mentioned that he sat around in his boxers with the AC blowing ice shards on his bare skin, grinning ear to ear, while I wore long sleeves and a hoodie to work. Instead, he simply smiled, kissed me a welcome home into our 73 degree Oasis of Love, and sat beside me on the couch while I cuddled under a thick blanket. Come to think of it, was that sweat I had seen all month building on his brow?

So what did I do when I realized my hubby’s secret?

Thank you for turning up the thermostat for me!

That’s what the note had read that I left beside the coffee maker before I left for work. I wanted him to know that I saw and appreciated all the small sacrifices for what they were. Love made concrete, shown in everyday actions that you could miss in a busy life if you weren’t careful. I never wanted to move so fast that I couldn’t see his love displayed.

He never took me for granted, and he never missed the chance to tell me how proud and thankful he was to be my spouse. I didn’t ever want to miss the opportunity either. It seems to me that the key to a happy marriage is taking your eyes off yourself. Everyone seems so worried about their contribution to the marriage, wondering in exasperation to their friends, family, and coworkers if their partner realized all the things they sacrifice, but all the focus on self makes you blind to everything else. When you can serve your spouse in love it will open your eyes more readily to the ways they serve you in return. Some times it is big things, and other times they’re small. But they are all gifts given in love that cultivate a happy life together. Even the surrender of the thermostat war.

Thanks For Letting Me Nag You

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I looked at my watch.

It’s only 11:00 am. I should give him more time.

That’s what I said to myself. Instead of sending my husband a text straight away to remind him to pay our rent, I was going to wait. I wanted to give him the opportunity to remember. To have the time. To get to it. He was home with our three daughters, all eight years old and under. Plus, a new puppy. Who wasn’t potty trained yet. Not the kids, mind you, but the puppy. The three year old had finally conceded to commode use. The dog, though, was a different story.

So, anyway, he was preoccupied. He was busy. He had a full plate, like me, and I needed to give him the opportunity to do what I had asked him to do for me today. He deserved the time. He deserved his wife not to nag at him. So, I wouldn’t.

I looked at my watch. 2:00 pm. I had checked the online banking, and I hadn’t seen it pop up yet. So, he hadn’t paid it yet.

They probably haven’t even finished school yet, Brie!

That’s what the logical part of my brain chided. It’s the part that told me to relax. But it was the other part that tended to speak louder. It was the part that worried about stuff. Even stuff that didn’t need worrying about.

Give him a bit more time, my chillax brain said.

So, I did.

3:00 pm. Crickets.

So, maybe I’ll just text him and ask how his day is going.

He was still finishing school! I told you. Sigh.

I waited a record-breaking five minutes after my customary wellness check-in, and then I could stand it no longer.

I used a kissie-face emoji, you know? To let him know I was kindly reminding the love of my life in a loving, non-nagging way. Yeah, that’s it. It wasn’t nagging! But yep, I knew it was nagging. I hoped he’d focus more on the kissie heart and less on the nagging part.

He had replied back his acknowledgment with a winky-face emoji, which if you don’t speak emoji means, “you’re nagging me, I realize it, and I’m okay with it.” Whew.

This is where I use the emoji with sweat on its brow, smiling. 😅 It’s not that I worried about getting him mad. It was simply a matter of respect. I loved him, I respected him, and I didn’t want to nag him or make him feel like a child. Thankfully, he knew this.

The thing about a marriage partnership is that each spouse has their specific strengths and weaknesses. He was an amazing man who kept me steady. I was a great gal who kept him directed. He knew my heart, and I knew his. Sometimes I worried too much. Sometimes he worried too little to my whirling brain. Somewhere in the middle we met and made it work beautifully. We blended, I guess you could say. Perhaps that was the whole point of the “one flesh” thing.

He didn’t mind an occasional “nagging” any more than I minded the fact that I sometimes needed to. I didn’t see a man who forgot something on my “honey-do” list. I saw a man who did so much for our family everyday. He didn’t see a nagging wife. He saw a woman who reminded him of things from time to time. It was my way. And he had his way. And together it made a wonderful way.

An Argument for Monogamy

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“I can be a little OCD about washing dishes,” my husband commented, as he rinsed a cup under the hot water.

I glanced sideways at the man I had seen every single day for ten years straight. If he would have looked at my face at that moment, he would have seen my smirking smile of surprise.

“Like this cup, for instance,” he continued. “I can’t stand that!”

He tilted a wet cup up onto the dish drain, where previously it had sat flat on the counter.

“See,” he said with a satisfied tone. “Now it will get air inside.”

Astounding. Who was this man? We stood side by side, washing dishes together to make the task easier before heading to the pool. He never ceased to amaze me. The guy who used to leave cereal bowls with sugary milk abandoned on the counter like clockwork suddenly had an opinion about the dish drain.

Just the day before he had said something else that caught me off guard. The thing was, while my husband and I had a lot in common, we also had some major differences. A huge one that had always been difficult for me, and sometimes a point of frustration, was his ability to remain cool, calm, and collected under stress. I’m sure you’re thinking that sounds like a wonderful attribute, and yes, it does. I wish I was that way. And that’s where the problem lay. In situations where I wanted to lose my mind, he was chill. I mean, a lot of times his lax attitude offered me an anchor of stability on tumultuous seas, but other times I had wondered if he had a pulse. Like, didn’t anything bother him?! I wanted stuff to bother him sometimes so I didn’t feel so crazy and out of control. But nope, he typically remained steady and worry-free. It kinda made me jealous. Kinda made me want to strangle him.

Well, anyway, yesterday our pastor had spoke on fear, and the things we feared losing in this world. Afterwards my husband had opened up to me about how much he could relate to the sermon.

“I’m like that,” he had said. “It’s like I have to push it all away and not think about it. Otherwise I’d be scared to death.”

Oh my gosh. He was faking it until he could make it. All the times over the years when I had been worried and ready to break, he had seemed so nonchalant and unmoved. His stability and faith had inspired me to let go of fear and anxiety. Yet here he was admitting that he was just as frightened as me about the hard stuff in life. He just didn’t talk about it like I did.

Ten years! Ten years we had been married, and I never knew. I loved him even more in that moment. My rock was breakable, but his weakness was alluring. It meant he knew where to gain strength. It meant he walked in strength for us both. It meant I still had a lot to learn about my spouse!

I hear people talk about how hard marriage is, and how hard it is to be committed to just one person for your whole life. Folks get bored, drift apart. The passion falls to the wayside, the spark dims, the fire fades, the excitement dwindles. In many instances the relationship had become monotonous, dull, lackluster. Folks felt comfortable, and they equated comfortable routine with dreadfully the same. They saw monogamy as mundane, with nothing left of interest to learn about their partner.

Well, I disagree. I suppose the idea is that a new romance is exciting. The thrill is in the unknown, so to speak. It’s invigorating to learn someone new. But from my experience in dating, all you learn is surface, superficial details. In a new relationship it’s the best face that’s put forward. So what you see is what is wanted to be seen. That’s why marriage is hard. You just start to get to know someone when you get pass the first couple of bumpy years. Even a decade down the road you don’t know them completely.

Seasons change, people change. Jobs change, your health changes. You mature, you learn new things in life. Your desires change, your reactions mature. When you have someone beside you to weather the changes of life, it’s like peeling back an onion. You get to the layers underneath.

Three years ago I assumed my husband was the least “handy” of men. He never tinkered, built stuff, or fixed things. At the time he owned his own business. This past year, as our life circumstances have changed, I discovered all kinds of things about my husband. He was the handiest of handymen! Very resourceful. He had never had the time in the first 8-9 years of our marriage to allow this talent to emerge. He could do all kinds of things I didn’t know he could do. In the past year I realized he was a great teacher to our daughters, a better cook than me, and wonderful at laundry. Lol!

As we grew closer to God, closer to one another, more comfortable with ourselves, and more comfortable with one another, we were learning things about each other that we never knew. Wonderful, beautiful things. Weaknesses, strengths, passions, and dreams. With the time of comfortable routine and the trust a long, unconditional-love relationship could bring, we were releasing the parts of ourselves to one another that people normally kept hidden. Dating wasn’t the exciting part. That was the inconsequential stuff. It’s the stuff you could experience with the checker of your local supermarket. But marriage. A committed, loving marriage, it was the real deal. Dating was the appetizer. Marriage was the meal you had been waiting for. But it was also the dessert! It was the midnight snack you had been craving. It was the hot cup of your favorite coffee in the morning. And it was the delicious dish you always were too afraid to try, yet once you sank your teeth into it, it became your most favorite food.

Ten years, and I still had so much to discover about that wonderful man scrubbing dirty dishes beside me. Now that was exciting. This was just the beginning. The last decade had been wonderful, but I discovered each day was better than the one before. With each changing season, we changed together. With each discovery of life, we discovered more about one another. As each layer was peeled back deeper, so too did our love grow. Deeper, stronger, more passionate, more wonderful. Why would I want to start again? I was in the best journey of life. The journey to know someone inside and out, to love someone more than myself, to never stop learning how I could love him like he deserved. There really was nothing more exciting.

How to Solve Most Any Marriage Argument

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I held him against me in the doorway of our bedroom, and we hugged each other. There was a slight stiffness about him, but as we held one another, flesh against flesh, though separated by cotton and denim, I felt his unease slip away as our bodies become one. At my whispered confession his muscles softened even more, and after I had spoken it was as if I could sense the last, lingering drop of his anger dissipate and drift away. Our argument was over. Finished. Forgotten. As if it never was.

But earlier…

I had been mad at him most of the night. Sometimes that man could be so exasperating to me. For someone so kind and thoughtful, on rare occasion he stunned me with his apparent disdain. Were men really that clueless?!

He had just made me so mad, you see?! All I could think about was how he obviously wasn’t considering my feelings. I mean, why else would he make decisions that went against what I wanted?! Am I right?

As we had ridden along together in silence in the truck, actually going forward with the things I wanted, I wondered why he even came along if he was going to give me the silent treatment. I briefly considered giving him the silent treatment back. I could win that race! I had offered my hand earlier as a kind of peace offering, and he had taken it easily enough, but I felt the space between us despite our fingers intertwined. It was that invisible void that exists in a marriage status post argument. Those weren’t as easy to close as, say, a kitchen cabinet. We rode in silence.

But at that moment I had heard the voice of God within my heart, piercing me with its directness and clarity.

You’re being selfish. You’re only seeing how this affects you.

And at that very clear and matter-of-fact observation, I realized the truth of it. Immediately I began to see clearly. I saw how my husband was affected by my decisions, and I understood how he must feel about the situation. In a sympathetic viewpoint I was more able to see his heart, and to place myself in his shoes. No longer blinded simply by what I wanted, I was able to see why he desired the things he did. I was crushed by my prior selfishness and aloof behavior. How could I have been so flippant and self-absorbed?!

When I had later called him to our bedroom to talk, it had been to apologize. And as I held him against me I told him I was sorry for being selfish. Of course, he tried to deny my self-accusation, but I could tell by the way his countenance changed that my confession meant a lot to him. I shared how I felt he must personally be affected by the decision we had made (the cause for the argument), and I could tell from his accepting eyes that my empathy meant much to him. Sometimes all we humans really want deep down is for the people who love us to really see us. Most of the time everyone is too self-absorbed to see beyond their own nose.

I think the number one cause for most marital discord is selfishness. The human tendency to see only self, is the main reason for a breakdown in relationships. What about cheating, you may ask. Well, isn’t a cheater only looking at what they want? Isn’t a lie simply a way to cover one’s tracks or reputation? Isn’t ignoring the needs or your spouse an exercise in selfishness? The truth is that the human tendency is to mainly look at self.

How does this affect me?

Look how she’s hurting me!

Look how he’s ignoring me!

Why doesn’t he care about my feelings?

Why doesn’t she listen?

Me, me, me.

Most any argument can be prevented by looking less at what we need and looking more at what the other person needs. Most fights can be solved by looking more at how we hurt the other person and less at how they hurt us. Most disagreements are smoothed over, forgiven, and forgotten by taking a selfless approach and walking in that.

When we can serve our partner is selflessness we make our marriages bloom, lessen discord, and grow our relationship. It’s a reciprocal relationship, where your servant attitude manifests the same in your spouse. When you look after the feelings and needs of your spouse first, they’ll look after your needs in return. It might take a little work, but it leads to a longer, happier life together. Certainly more than one where you just worry about yourself.

A Valentine’s Day to Remember

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I can remember when I was in junior high school that Valentine’s Day was a huge day. The coolest girls received deliveries to the school office. Big bundles of flowers, heart boxes full of candy, and teddy bears with a red bow. I longed for one of those deliveries, but I never got it. I even had to wait a few years before a boy exchanged a gift with me at all. I can’t recall what it was, though. I don’t even remember when I received my first bouquet of a dozen red roses. I suppose the gifts that fade into your past weren’t really that memorable to begin with. For something that seemed so important at the time, the weight of it doesn’t even leave a ripple in the waters of my mind.

I mean, I can’t even recall what my Valentine’s Day card from my husband last year said, and I know I thought the sentiment was especially sweet. I guess that’s why I had always kept the cards he gave me, so I could look back and remind myself what was printed on the card stock. But things are different now. I don’t have a treasure box, hope chest, or storage space with which to pack away my memories. I mean, when was the last time I had read one of those cards anyway? Sometimes you realize you have to let the stuff that disintegrates go in favor of the things that don’t.

And indeed, we had gotten rid of boxes and rooms full of stuff. We had sold and given away a whole two story house packed of objects that you could hold and see so that we could increase the items you couldn’t see, like time together and unconditional love. A year ago we gave up all the stuff so we could travel the country together as a family. We had a small home in the form of an RV, but it certainly wasn’t going to hold years full of cards or a collection of teddy bears and puppies holding hearts. Hence, how Valentine’s Day went this year.

With a new minimalist lifestyle in mind, I had suggested to my spouse how best we might exchange Valentine’s this year. Of course, he found it brilliant. And it’s certainly not one I shall soon forget.

You see, for starters my husband was the best gift I’d ever been given. God had that man designed to be the perfect partner for me, and we had looked back in awe at how the world tried to destroy us, yet God had brought us through it all for His plans to prevail. Even when decades of time and thousands of miles worked to keep us apart, in the end God brought us back together. He knew that Ben was the man I needed to be able to grow closer to the Lord and impact the world with God’s love.

Then there was the fact that my husband gave me good gifts every day. He gave me his heart, his time, his sacrifices, his words of encouragement, his uplifting compliments, and his attention and affection. I watched the world around me, and I saw people who needed time away from their spouse who got on their nerves. They needed tons of girlfriends to confide in about how their husband didn’t understand their needs. They spoke about how hard marriage was, and I just couldn’t for the life of me relate. I had never thought it was hard, not even mildly difficult. It was so easy to be loved by him, and to reciprocate that love. That was the greatest gift.

Every day, the way he looked at me. The look that said, “you are my person. You’re the one that makes life perfect. I can’t imagine anything better than this right here, looking at you.” That look got me every time. It was how I never grew tired of cuddling with him, or how I never tired of hearing, “I love you so much.” I wanted to spend every moment of every day in his presence, and if I could make a day longer than twenty-four hours, I’d spend the extra minutes at his side. It was easy sharing life with him. And I didn’t need a card to tell me he felt the same. But cards are fun, right?

So this year, with the fact that we hauled all our possession around the United States, we thought it would be fun to go to the card aisle and find the Valentine’s that expressed our feelings for each other best, exchange them there, and then put them back! It was perfect! He picked out the absolute best card, and he loved mine too. I probably won’t be able to recite tomorrow what it said, though. And neither will he. Yet we won’t need to. Each day we live out a life together that represents what those Valentine’s stated. Each day we express our affection to one another, and that’s the sort of thing you don’t forget.

A Letter to My Sugar Daddy

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My Dearest Love,

The other day at work someone mentioned sugar daddies and knowing someone who had one. They spoke about how much he took care of her, and how she didn’t even have to give him anything in return. He just did it! I thought about that for a moment, and immediately I thought of you. I know, you’re laughing, but in a way that day I realized I have the perfect sugar daddy in you.

I know we both wondered how it would pan out when we switched roles last year. You stopped working sixty hour weeks and I passed on the homeschool mantle to your competent hands. I transitioned into the role of primary breadwinner for this season of life, and you entered the unknown waters of a stay-at-home husband and dad. It was a change for us both, but one neither of us complained about, understanding it was what we needed at the time. I knew it would be different, but I never realized how much.

Do you know that every night when I taste the homemade meal you’ve prepared that it tastes better than the last? Like, seriously I ask myself, “what is it that he does different than me?!” I always thought I was a really excellent cook, but then I tasted your dinners. After a long day nothing fills my belly like something you made in love, and nothing fills my heart more than realizing you did it just for me.

All the things you do for me. It’s amazing. You don’t let me lift a finger when I get home. You do it all. Cleaning, cooking, laundry. You manage to have me a hot meal and clean house when I walk in the door, despite having homeschooled the girls all day. The other day I watched you changing a dirty diaper and realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had! When our daughters ask me for something after a long day you jump in quickly to say, “I can get it!”

And that’s the thing, you get it. You get me, you get this whole marriage thing, and you get how much it means to me to be taken care of by you. You see to all my needs, and just when I think I couldn’t love you anymore than I already do, you do something else amazing.

I know, I know, I’m being super sappy, but I want you to know. I want you to know I see it. I notice every little thing you do for me, and it adds up huge in my heart. I feel like the luckiest woman alive. I go to a rewarding job serving others, and when I go home you serve me. Babe, you are speaking my love language, big time!

Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for not only loving me (I’ve always known that), but thank you for showing me your love in action every single day. If being a sugar daddy means taking care of your lady then by all means you are the sweetest, most generous one on this planet, and I’m blessed enough to call you mine!

Love,

Your Wife

I’ve Missed This

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My husband lay behind me, and I curled into his body, his arm twined around my torso. My back to his chest, we fit together like two spoons in a drawer. It felt like home. We laid there on the couch together watching TV, and I could feel his hot breath in my ear.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered.

I agreed with a satisfying purr.

How long had it been since we laid like this? Too long to remember. I mean, we made time together as husband and wife, but to just lay beside one another for an extended period, soaking in the other’s presence? It had been a while.

Indeed, one or both of us usually had a kid or two in our lap, and you couldn’t very well twine into one another on the sofa when every few minutes someone came up asking for chocolate milk or if you could help them find something that was laying in plain sight. I’m not sure how we had managed it this long on this particular afternoon, but we had. I could hear the girls playing contentedly in their room, so I just enjoyed it while I could.

We were in our forties, and our entire married life had been about parenting. I don’t think we had planned it to be that way, but it’s how it turned out. We got married at thirty-one, in November, and worried that it might take a while to conceive I had stopped my birth control in December. Yep, by January we were expecting. I wasn’t even ready. Neither was he, but somehow together we made it beautiful. Having a baby brought out the best in us, and as a couple we grew.

That whole decade would be a series of pregnancies, deliveries, breastfeeding, newborns, and moving into different homes to suit our growing family. First steps, first words, and first everything’s. Times three! It was a whirlwind thirties for us, for sure. Watching my husband blossom under the mantle of fatherhood was one of my favorite things, and being a parenting partner with him was more than I could have hoped for. He was a wonderful dad!

Yet he was more. And as I lay against his body on the couch, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against me, I knew it was true.

Marriage and parenting can be especially challenging when combined. There’s so much going on. Through terrible twos, stomach bugs, and birthday parties you go. You run errands, change diapers, and go to multiple doctor appointments. You worry, you rejoice, and you cry when you fear you’re messing it all up. You disagree on methods, you discuss the tough issues, and you fall asleep exhausted as soon as your head hits the pillow.

You hold hands together in the hospital waiting for the ultrasound of your daughter’s heart. You worry together.

He holds the baby’s arms down while you twist her head side to side, tortuously performing the physical therapy exercises they taught you to do. Your eyes meet in sympathetic wailing as you work through the baby’s loud cries. This too shall pass.

He comes into the bathroom to check on you where you lay in the floor next to the commode. How long can a stomach virus last for one family?!

Bills! So many bills. We need diapers. We gotta buy a bigger vehicle. She’s outgrown her shoes again.

Go take a bath. I’ll watch the baby.

You stay home by yourself for a change. I’ll take everyone to the store with me.

Go ahead and go to bed. I can tell you’re tired. I’ll put them down.

Through our nine years of marriage we had parented for over eight years of it. We had never really known each other just as husband and wife, but rather always as mom and dad. And we were wonderful at it! We were the perfect team! We were a dynamic parenting duo! But I never wanted to forget what it felt like to spoon on the sofa with the man I fell in love with.

My husband was a wonderful father, but before that he was my wonderful husband. He was a dad! But he was also my best friend. He was my confidant, my prayer partner, and so many days the lifter of my head. God had gifted me with this man, and not just to be the father of my children, but to be my companion for life. One day the children would leave the nest, but I knew it wouldn’t feel too empty. Because it would be filled with him.

It’s easy to get sucked into the parent trap. To see your spouse as your helpmate in matters involving the children, but forget that he was an ever-present help for you in all things. Although I love being a mother, I didn’t want that to define me alone. Before I was their mother, I was his wife, and after they grew up and became mothers themselves, still his wife I would be.

Seasons change, but love remains.

Our only season of married life had been a season of parenting small children, and sometimes that can be pretty overshadowing. The demands of raising multiple, little people takes a lot of strength and energy. Like, a lot! But I never want it to take it all. I always try to leave the best parts of myself for him. He deserves that of me.

“I miss this,” he had said.

And I had too.

It’s unrealistic to think that you can cuddle all day with three children eight years old and under around 24/7, but I did know this. I didn’t want to forget. I didn’t want to forget how good it felt to snuggle up alongside my best guy. I didn’t want to forget what it was like to miss and long for his embrace. I didn’t want to forget that I was made for him, and that he was made for me. I didn’t want to let it slip my mind that he was more than just the father of my children; he was also the love of my life. I held him above everything, and other than the good Lord, he was the one I loved the most. I poured a lot of energy and adoration into the children. We both did. But when it came down to it, he was the only one I wanted to end the day with, melting into his arms, and letting all our other obligations fade away, even if for just a moment.

I had missed this too, but I never wanted to miss it so much that I forgot what it was. Never.

My Husband Didn’t Buy Me a Christmas Present

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“My greatest gift in this life is being your wife.”

My husband smiled at my heartfelt words.

“Thank you, baby,” he replied. “That means a lot.”

My gift to him was appreciation, and his gift to me was every day. Every day he showed me his love for me in action.

You see, my husband didn’t buy me a Christmas gift this year.

About two weeks ago I had mentioned my thoughts to my husband as we drove back home from running errands.

“I thought perhaps we could not get each other Christmas gifts this year,” I suggested.

Then I presented the facts. We only had limited time before we packed up and headed over 500 miles away to visit family for Christmas. I’d be working twelve hours shifts, several in a row, right up until the day we left. We still had tons of shopping to do for family members. Yes, we are master procrastinators. Plus, let’s just be honest, funds were limited. Then there was the thing about not knowing what I wanted. I had considered what I might want, but I truly could think of nothing I needed! The past year of our lives had centered a lot around focusing on important things like time together, and less on piles of material possessions that meant very little. We had unloaded a lot of “stuff” before hitting the road to travel in an RV, and we loved how light we felt without all the unneeded junk.

“You know, we haven’t had time alone together since July. Maybe we could go on a date while we’re back home with family to babysit. That could be our Christmas gift to one another,” I proposed.

He was quick to answer, “I love it!”

After a few Christmas gatherings, and after seeing gifts other spouses gave one another, I thought about my nonexistent present last night.

I remember in a previous relationship him making a large income. He was always buying me jewelry, lots of diamonds and gold, plenty of expensive clothing, and pretty much anything I asked for. I also remember never feeling like I was pretty enough, or feeling like I wasn’t enough (period) for him. I lived consistently feeling like I wasn’t a gift to him, despite the presents he bought. For six years I lived like that. Stacked to the ceiling in stuff he gave me, but realizing I wasn’t loved.

Then I thought of my biological father. I remember when I was nineteen and I tried to reconnect with him. He took me to the mall, and he bought me $100 shoes and $100 jeans. I felt like he was trying to make up for the years lost, and I let him do it! I was nineteen, after all. But in the end $1000 shoes wouldn’t have made a difference. Many years later, after we had drifted apart again, I would look at those shoes in my closet and realize the presents didn’t matter. Presence did. I finally got rid of the shoes. But just today I talked to my Daddy who adopted me.

In my life, I have had plenty, and I have had little. Yet in all that experience I would trade all the possessions in the world in favor of true love and all that it entails. It was after these thoughts last night that I spoke my mind and heart to my husband before falling asleep.

“My greatest gift in this life is being your wife.”

From the moment I reconnected with my old boyfriend, who is now my husband, I never doubted his feelings. He would text me often just to say hello and let me know he cared. And this was back when texting wasn’t common and was in fact hard for us folks born in the 70’s and not quite in tune with the growing technology. Remember tapping through the number on the keypad to find the right letter?

He wasn’t a huge gift giver, even back then, but he was a huge giver of his love. His gifts of love came back then at a time when I needed them the most. After so much loss, he gave me all of his heart. Every single bit.

Even now, almost a decade married, three children later, with no doubt that we love one another, he hasn’t stopped showing me. Thank goodness texting has gotten easier.

Every day he gives me great gifts, gifts of his time, attention, and affection. He gives me the gift of listening to my concerns, the gift of being aware of my feelings, and sensitive to my needs. He gives me the gift of taking care of our home, serving me consistently, and modeling to our daughters how a man should treat his wife. He gives me the gift of respect, and he values my opinions. He gives me the gift of teaching our daughters, and of leading them to a closer walk with the Lord each day. Sure, he gives me the gift of a clean house and folded laundry, but he also gives me the gift of his everything. Every part of him belongs to me, and every part of me belongs to him. He inspires me to be a better person, and when I falter he is quick to forgive. He gives me compassion, realistic expectation, and so many compliments. So many compliments that I have no choice but to believe I am as beautiful as he says I am.

My husband didn’t buy me a Christmas present this year. Instead he gives me good gifts every single day. Each day I am married to him I grow to love him even more. Each day I feel more loved. Each day I see myself a bit more clearly through the rose-colored glasses of how he sees me, and each day I am more blessed to realize how special I am in his eyes. His affection is my daily gift, our partnership is my greatest present, and each day unwrapping the future of our continuing love story is better than anything mere money could buy.

But I am looking forward to that date!

We’re in This Together

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“In this family you don’t have to go through anything alone,” I explained to my oldest daughter. “We’re in this together!”

She nodded, sniffled, and wiped a stray tear from her cheek before acknowledging my statement with an accepting “ok, Momma.”

She was eight years old, and for whatever reason had started developing fear at night. She was having trouble sleeping, and she said when she woke up in the middle of the night with everyone else still sleeping, she felt alone. Her father and I had noticed something amiss with her mood, but she tried to say everything was ok. Finally, after much gentle questioning, she admitted her fears. She had worried her dad and I wouldn’t understand how she could know Jesus was always with her, but still be afraid. I think she was ashamed of her fear.

“It’s ok to be afraid, baby,” I explained. “It’s okay to cry, and it’s especially ok to ask for help. That’s why we’re here.”

My husband went on to explain she could always wake him up anytime. We offered wisdom from scripture, but above all we let her know that she wasn’t alone in this. That’s what family is for.

That was last night, but I was reminded of it again today.

“We all just finished praying for you,” my husband texted to me at work.

We’re in this together.

I was reminded how true that was. I had texted my husband earlier this morning to let him know I wasn’t feeling well. I felt downtrodden, and while I knew you couldn’t spread sunshine on the daily, I also knew God didn’t have it for me to feel defeated or depressed in my day. So I had shared my mood with my spouse so he might lift me up in prayer.

Turns out he enlisted the whole family to pray.

We’re in this together.

I thought about how I had responded not long ago when my husband wasn’t feeling well. When he doesn’t feel good he gets really quiet. He’s almost sullen. He doesn’t want to do anything, and in this particular instance had tried to make excuses to not go somewhere I had planned.

“It looks like it might rain,” my personal meteorologist/aka husband had stated.

I had retorted, “if you don’t wanna go just say so!”

And as I stewed with indignation afterwards I thought to myself how his bad mood shouldn’t be something I had to deal with! Yet, I had. I had allowed my anger to cool, tried to place myself in his shoes, and remembered that it was my job to support him in life. Through good times and bad.

We’re in this together.

I didn’t know if our family had a bullseye lately from the enemy for following God’s will, but I did know that everyone eventually had bad days. Sometimes all at once, sometimes at inconvenient times, sometimes when you couldn’t understand them, and sometimes even when they didn’t want to share those bad days with you. You still shared them! Even if you couldn’t understand, didn’t want to deal, or felt like you couldn’t help. Because that’s what you do when you love someone. You help carry the weight when they can’t, and then later they pick up the load for a while. Repeat.

I told my daughter this last night. “God didn’t promise us that life on this earth would always be easy, but He did promise you wouldn’t be alone.”

I reckon sometimes God’s presence is made concrete through the people who love you. Wives support husbands, and husbands lift up their wives. Or they should.

Families pray together, and they intercede for one another. That’s what we’re here for. To love God, love one another, and help make the journey through this life easier for one another until we reach the other side.

We’re in this together.

So, never feel like you’re alone. Never go at it alone. God gives us all our people to help us through this thing called life. Look for your people today.

My Tribe

We Both a Little Crazy Sometimes

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He came up behind me unexpectedly, and he wrapped his solid arms around my waist. His bearded chin rested on my left shoulder as he drew me closer into his warm embrace. It felt comfortable, familiar, like home, and the anger I had been holding onto started to evaporate like it had never been there at all. The rigidness of my body softened in the caress of his strength and love, and it was as if I melted like wax, his presence being the flame of my undoing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly into my ear.

His apology a balm, the heat of his breath soothing, the warmth of his affection mending any broken fences. I rested there in his arms, surrendering to the greatest love I had ever known on this earth, opening my heart even more to his kindness.

I finally turned my head around, looking up into his tender, brown eyes. All the mad feelings that had been present just moments ago had vanished, pushed away by a stronger emotion.

Love.

I smiled up into his warm gaze, a place where I could become lost if I allowed it, and I said with a smirk, “we both a little crazy sometimes.”

He laughed, and we both knew it was forgotten. It was forgiven. Anger was let go, and the fight was over. All was as it should be. Thankfully.

Yet before…

I am not apologizing!

That is what I had thought before. In my mind, at the moment, I was always the first to say I’m sorry. Not this time! Nope, not gonna do it!

A ridiculous fight! That’s what it was. And I found it odd that our rare fights usually occurred over something minuscule and unimportant. It was like at work. I could handle the most stressful and tragic of situations, performing with a calm clarity when a serious or deadly predicament arouse. But if a computer froze or IV pump wouldn’t stop alarming, rage would build in me akin to some sort of Hulk-like explosion. Our occasional arguments were like that. We handled the stress of finances, the difficulties of parenting, and the uncertainty of life with ease, but introduce a conflict over which route to take home from the grocery store and we might just pull out the boxing gloves.

Yes, that’s what it had been, a silly disagreement over nothing of any real significance, but I had noticed over the years that even a pointless argument can be blown out of proportion when selfishness and the desire to be right took center stage.

His desire to be right, my stubbornness to not say sorry. My stance of silence, and his reciprocating, stoic, tight-lipped reply. Thoughts of selfish ambition, the certainty of one’s opinion being the best, and a stonewall emotional response. The temptation to say something hurtful, coupled with the fact that harsh words spoken cannot be reeled back in as easily as they’re cast. The choice between being right or being humble. The decision to stay silent, or the choice to speak surrender. The realization that relationship is more important than winning a fight. The ability to say I’m sorry, and the lifesaving healing of forgiveness.

Marriage isn’t easy, but then again, it’s not that hard. Perhaps we are the ones that make it more difficult than it needs to be. Sometimes it’s as simple as an apology, or as easy as letting go. Perhaps it’s the realization that no one is perfect, nor should such a standard be expected. Maybe it’s as straightforward as letting anger go in favor of love, as uncomplicated as remembering our own idiosyncrasies and faults. It could even be something as effortless as understanding that we’re all a little crazy sometimes.